They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.

Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet

Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which

The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!

O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…

Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees

Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—

They tell me on the morrow I must… This winter eyrie for a southern f… And truth to tell I tremble with… At thought of such unheralded repr… E’er have I known December in a w…

Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely

An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…

My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.

My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…

beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and